Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BEHIND THE PLOUGH, by JAMES HENRY COUSINS



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BEHIND THE PLOUGH, by            
First Line: Black wings and white in the hollow
Last Line: Where god the ploughman ploughs.


BLACK wings and white in the hollow
Follow the track of the team,
While the sun from the noon declining
Is shining on toil-wet brows.
Birds of the mountain and sea-birds
Circle and swoop and scream,
Searching for spoils of the furrow
Where slowly the ploughman ploughs.

Make me room, O birds! I am sweeping
From the Boughs of Sleeping afar;
I have winged thro' the mists of the ages,
Where sages drone and drowse;
I follow the feet of the Horses
That drag the Morning Star,
To search in the spoils of the furrow,
Where God the Ploughman ploughs.





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